


Exile, Vilify

by waywardRenegade413



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardRenegade413/pseuds/waywardRenegade413
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yes okay lots of metaphors. also this is the first thing I've posted on here, so suggestions on how to improve anything would be much appreciated. Also, I did write this with Dave and Bro in mind, although it's really vague. </p>
<p>songs I based it off of <br/>http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=G-Vg2YS-sFE <br/>and <br/>http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=tGE381tbQa8</p></blockquote>





	Exile, Vilify

A young man sits in his bedroom alone. The young man will sometimes doubt the existence of himself. This young man lives in a city, and seems to float by the people inhabiting it. He is not acknowledged, and he is not talked about. He just simply seemed to cease to exist to the inhabitants of his city. The few friends he had did not talk to him or about him. He still lived in the apartment he and his brother once shared, and he floated around his city of glass and paper, full of people of glass and paper, out of sight, out of mind. 

The paper people seemed to think his brother was dead. He knew this was untrue- he still heard his brother's words made of knives, and they still opened wounds that had previously been healed, and they made their fair share of new wounds as well. The only strange thing was, the young man didn't see his brother, and his words rang through the walls of the apartment, through his head. 'You'll never amount to anything. You've been nothing but a disappointment. They should've taken you with them when they left.' The words spoken by his brother were knives, and they often left scars. The young boy sometimes thought he was crazy, that the words were only in his head, but decided that thought was crazy, because he heard the words too loud for them to be fake. 

He thought many times that the vilify was not meant to be taken seriously, and it was all just a joke to be played on him, but it was spoken with too much meaning- so much venom in his brother's words he could almost taste it as they got into his mind and ate away at him. It continued. It never stopped, even when his brother wasn't talking, he heard the words in his head, tearing him apart. It hurt, at first. He learned how to empty himself so that he'd feel nothing. It was always the same pattern when his brother got home- anger, sadness, and then nothing. But one day, his brother didn't seem to come home, and the young man never saw him again. The young man knew his brother was still alive, because the words never stopped. He didn't bother to sleep, because sleep only brought nightmares. 

“The poor man. It must be hard for him, losing his brother like that,” said the paper people in their glass cities. He often tries to correct the paper people, but they don't acknowledge him. All of it is fake, easy to destroy. One push and the glass city would shatter. One good pull, and the paper people would tear into pieces, impossible to fix. 

The young man tiptoes through his city of glass at night, eyes full of wonder and interest. The city, once alive and bustling with paper people, is now dark and empty. He does not know why the glass city turns into the paper people at night- dark, empty, and fake. The city becomes his brother at night, and he does not know why being out at night comforts him if that is true. If anyone could hear him, he would ask, but he remains out of sight and out of mind, ignored and exiled. 

The paper people and the city of glass was and still is real. He was once a paper person, in the glass city. He no longer exists to himself, or to the others. It is not he who was exiled by the paper people of the city of glass. It was he who exiled himself, as he could not take the vilify provided by his brother, and was sure that the paper people were like his brother- that all paper people were like his brother, because his brother was a paper person too. He was the paper person he despises, in the glass city that provided him with the life he hated, and did not want. He told himself he was strong, but he was a paper person in a glass city, and paper and glass are weak, and will be broken. The young man sat in his empty apartment, conjuring his own perfect world in his mind, free of paper people, free of himself. He made his own characters, his own story. 

So the young man was broken, his glass city shattered by words, he himself torn by the vilify he could almost taste as it ate him from the inside out. Life felt too much like a trial. It troubled his mind, the way his brother did. He thought too fast, and he is like marble on glass.

**Author's Note:**

> yes okay lots of metaphors. also this is the first thing I've posted on here, so suggestions on how to improve anything would be much appreciated. Also, I did write this with Dave and Bro in mind, although it's really vague. 
> 
> songs I based it off of   
> http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=G-Vg2YS-sFE   
> and   
> http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=tGE381tbQa8


End file.
